For You I Am Blinded
by PerfectPerception
Summary: Miley Stewart doesn’t exist. There is only Hannah Montana and she’s equipped with a god complex and plastic values. However, by a chance of fate, the heartless star meets Oliver Oken. Perhaps this boy can shed some light on her Hollywood blinded eyes.
1. 1

**Author's Notes:** Um. Yeah, I feel lame for posting this. But I am, because I'm basically hackin amazing. Plus, there just isn't enough Oliver/Miley stories out there. :D  
**Author's Warnings:** Due to the AUness of this story, characters are most likely going to be slightly out of character, especially Miley/Hannah's. However, please keep in mind the circumstances of the plotline before you flame or complain.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't associate with any characters nor do I plan to. Therefore the lack of contact and custody means I don't own a thing. Pity, really. Oh, and the story's title is lyrics taken from The Academy Is...'s song, _Everything We Had_.  
**Title's credit goes to: Chiodos.**

1.  
_Life Is A Perception Of Your Own Reality_

The flash of light bulbs gives a glimpse of what surrealism is. _If only_ Hannah could notice such a thing, however, she was too preoccupied by the thousands sources of lights capturing the glint of her eyes. Instead she smiled; tossed her blonde chemically enhanced hair over her bare shoulder and waved at the yelling men, all attempting to capture the perfect – or maybe, not so perfect – angle of her glowing body.

Maybe today they'll leave her alone. Maybe if she poses perfectly, _like she always does_, they'll be satisfied.

_They'll never be_.

Which, in all honestly, isn't entirely bad either. Because if they loose their interest in Hannah the world will, without a doubt, follow. And she'll be nothing but another burnt out Hollywood child star fueled on someone else's dreams. But that could _never_ happen. Never.

Eventually she grew tired and slightly blinded from the flashing bulbs, smiling emptily one more time before exiting the carpet with her awaiting father. Her brother, Jackson, is absent like always. But she just assumes he's simply jealous over the fact that he wasn't blessed – or maybe it's cursed? – with fame like his sister. And, like everything else, it doesn't matter. As long as Hannah Montana is content, it's fine. With one last wave, in the building father and daughter went, welcomed with screams of overzealous and assumingly prepubescent girls.

"We love you!"

Hannah smiled knowingly. _Of course_ they love her. Why wouldn't they?

She is, after all, Hannah Montana. A perfect teenage star whom was blessed with natural good looks (covered up by pounds of makeup), a dazzling smile (after paying for veneers), the perfect body (by avoiding sweets at all costs), and amazing voice (thanks to vocal correctors). Just the complete teenage package.

Like a routine she signed the overly large and heavily photoshopped posters of her with large, cursive pretty letters and within an hour she finished the last of her fans. Finally with little girls happily content and no more posters to spare, she left the circular, blank room and followed her father outside.

Once again lights flooded her vision and, unlike many other stars all whom try to flee the overbearing lights, she effortlessly posed with her father at her side. She looked blankly at the people surrounding them, refusing to even bother to look past the mass. Because behind them and their cameras is darkness. And she doesn't look beyond the blinding lights not because she couldn't see but what she might see.

-  
-

"So, wait, _whose_ eating at your restaurant?"

Oliver sighed impatiently, his grip tightening on his phone before muttering through gritted teeth, "I already told you, Lilly! Hannah Montana! That stupid popstar."

"Oh," his friend responded lamely. "So you got over your obsession with her then?"

"Shut up," he hissed, rolling his eyes when Lilly giggled tauntingly as a response. "God, I tell you one thing, _one thing_, and you blackmail me with it every chance you're given?"

"Well, pretty much yeah."

"Thanks."

"No problem." There a brief pause from the other end before Lilly continued in attempt to stretch the dying conversation. "So, are you waiting on her? Or what?"

"I'm not sure," sighed Oliver, running a hand through his brown mop of hair. "I don't really care but I doubt the manager would even think about it. Last week I dropped a plate of spaghetti on a costumer –"

"That's your forth time," Lilly commented cheerfully.

"–so there isn't much of a chance he'd let me even breathe next to Hannah Montana."

"Which is good, right?" questioned his friend. "I mean, you don't really give off the impression of wanting to serve her."

"Right. Plus, I heard she's a complete bitch anyways. I'd probably be fired right on the spot if she complained about me." he concluded before glancing at the nearby clock hanging from a wall in the kitchen he was currently located, sitting on a pristine white table eating dinner and wasting away the minutes of his break.

"You should quit regardless," Lilly urged.

"Like hell I will." he scoffed.

"I mean it, Oliver." Now he could almost see the frown flashing across his friend's pretty face. "Your job sucks. Really sucks. And your boss isn't exactly keen on you and your two left feet working for him."

"Then I should consider myself lucky for his lack of good help," smirked Oliver. "And even if I wanted to, I can't. I'm not going to live off of sunshine and love when I go to college."

"I guess, I mean, it's pretty unlikely you could, considering you'd never _find_ love in the first place. Well, excluding me and _I guess_ your family at least."

"Once again, I thank you for your comments, Lilly."

"And once again, I reply with a 'no problem', Oliver."

The brunet let out an overly dramatic sigh before informing, "you know, I'm just going to hang up now assuming that you're going to continue assaulting my ego."

Lilly giggled as a response. "I'm telling you nothing but the truth _but_ I should get back to my homework."

"Alright, I'll call you later."

"You better, Oken."

"Promise." With that said, Oliver ended the call and shoved the mechanical device deep into his slack's pocket before finishing up the remainder of his dinner. With his stomach satisfied and his social life up to snuff, he straightened his button down shirt, fixed his lopsided tie and finally ventured out in the dining area.

Not taking even two steps the manager whom he had grown to completely loathe had uncomfortably grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the kitchen. Out of habit his mind instantly raced with lies and excuses for whatever he had wrongfully done; immediately informing his manager, "I'm only a minute late, sir. Sorry. You can –"

"Never mind that," breathed the slightly dazed man adjacent from Oliver. "Hannah Montana's here and I need you to serve her water."

Oliver froze. "M-me, sir?" he asked with disbelief. "But, I thought, since last night –"

"That incident gives you a reason to redeem yourself," hissed Oliver's manager. "My entire staff is working on catering to her and blocking the paparazzi from entering. You're the only one I hadn't assigned anything to."

"Well, in that case," Oliver sighed, his heart dropping quite low. "I'll grab the pitcher and ask her now."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Ugh, first chapter. Any thoughts? Future chapters will be longer and hopefully slightly more captivating, I promise. I just need to develop and establish their personalities first. Review to make me feel less lame?


	2. 2

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the slow update, kiddos. My laptop I normally write stories on kinda broke. Well, sort of. It starts up after I smack the keyboard and when I finally log into my desktop, it'll freeze within ten minutes. Sometimes less. So saving all the stories I've recently been writing to another computer has been more than a hassle.  
**Author's Warnings:** Due to the AUness of this story, characters are most likely going to be slightly out of character, especially Miley/Hannah's. However, please keep in mind the circumstances of the plotline before you flame or complain.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't associate with any characters nor do I plan to. Therefore the lack of contact and custody means I don't own a thing. Pity, really. Pity, really. Oh, and the story's title is lyrics taken from The Academy Is...'s song, _Everything We Had_.  
**Title's credit goes to: Taking Back Sunday.**

2.  
_Cute Without The E_

Oliver stepped once again into the dining area, his eyes idly scanning the room in search of the starlit. The _same_ starlit he prayed earlier to never face. Unfortunately fate never worked in his regard, so really, it shouldn't have surprised him he'd be bestowed with a task he never wanted to do in the first place.

Eventually his vision had fallen on the glowing presence across the room. Like every other celebrity who decided to dine in the restaurant previously, she reeked of ignorance and wore a shallow appearance. He wasn't surprised she was as fake as her hair color, assuming that she was introduced to fame at a young age because of her father's earlier popular career. Hell, for all he knew, she was probably wearing acrylic nails and dying her hair at the age of five and picking out a car for herself by seven.

Sweeping his ill thoughts away, Oliver inhaled a deep breath before forcing himself toward the table that drew the room's entire attention on. As he approached the two celebrities he held the pitcher in his hand a little higher to indicate the reason for his invading presence and he was slightly pleased to receive a slight grin the elder of the two seated forms. However, he wasn't so lucky in drawing the girl's attention. Apparently, she was too caught up in calculating the carbs she'd be digesting if she ordered the salad with French or House dressing to even bother acknowledging him.

"Excuse me," he interrupted politely, his sugary tone scratching the inside of his throat so severely he almost coughed. "Would you two care for some water?" The blonde celebrity lamely peered upward at Oliver with blank eyes, arching a perfect eyebrow in response. The lanky boy felt anger grip his insides at her simple arrogance. Clearing his throat, he attempted to try again, "Do you want –"

"I heard you the first time," she snapped. He blinked, preventing himself from raising his eyebrows in surprise at her accent. He hadn't a clue she was from the south but he also doubted she was a typical gentle southern lady.

"Sorry, I didn't hear _your_ response," he muttered darkly in return, suppressing himself from gripping the glass pitcher any tighter in fear of the glass shattering and its shards embedding themselves deep into his soft flesh.

"Normally, you give customers water whether they _want_ it or not," she informed icily.

"Sorry, Miss Montana, but we're not in the South anymore," he responded equally as harsh. "In fact, we ask our all customers if they'd prefer sparkling or bottled water."

"Whichever one in your hand is fine," she replied. She paused before adding as a loud afterthought, "considering this is the fastest way to get you out of my face."

Oliver felt his blank expression break from her words and he couldn't help but form a sneer tinted with great dislike. "Excellent choice, Miss Montana," he hissed, "you might gain a few pounds if you chose Sparkling. Couldn't afford that, now could you?"

"What?" she screeched, a look of pure revolt painting across her initial reaction of surprise. Billy Ray appeared slightly frazzled at Oliver's words and Hannah's outburst, rendering himself unfortunately speechless momentarily. "How _dare_ you!"

The brunet felt a smile of corrupt satisfaction overtake his sneer, feeling oddly content with her dramatic reaction. "I'm paid to serve you, Miss Montana," he replied simply, "not lie to you."

Perhaps he had pushed his boundaries a little too far with that last remark, quickly receiving the water in the pitcher suddenly drenched on him and his manager screaming for him to get out. As he stood slightly dazed outside of the restaurant he found it actually funny, really, being given a shower and being fired within two minutes of each other. Sighing, he pulled out his cell phone and swore under his breath when he discovered the water had seeped through his clothes and soaked the mechanical device, rendering it worthless.

Today just wasn't his day.

Instead of using his cell phone as he initially attempted to do, he walked two blocks down from the restaurant and, after savaging a few quarters abandoned on the pavement around him, fed a public phone change and dialed Lilly's number. Within moments of ringing, she answered, unable to identify the caller ID and answered hesitantly.

"Hello?"

"Lilly, it's me."

"Oliver? Wh – it's only seven-fifteen. And this isn't your phone's number –"

"I'll explain everything later, can you pick me up from the restaurant? Please?" He shut his eyes tightly, pulling the receiver end of the phone slightly away from his ear as he braced himself for the approaching outburst.

One… two… three…

"_What_? Are you kidding me?!" Lilly screamed into her phone. "Are. You. Kidding. Me? OLIVER! It's seven-fifteen! And you work at the other side of town – it'll take me an hour to drive out there! What – it's a school night! What the _hell_ did you do?"

"Please, Lilly, I need you to pick me up now. My parents are working double shifts and won't be out till eleven," pleaded the brunet. "Please, please, _please_ pick me up. I know I'm a loser and an idiot and everything; bitch at me when you pick me up. But please pick me up."

"OLIVER, YOU ARE SO F–"

"_Please pay ten cents to continue your collect call_."

"DEAD! I SWEAR TO GOD WHEN I SEE YOU I'LL –"

"_Beep. Beep. Beeep_."

Fortunately before the blonde could continue with her rant, the call ended. The boy sighed, hanging up the disconnected phone before slumping against the nearest wall and waited in silence for his friend to pick him up.

Eventually an hour or so rolled by and the brunet could see his friend's car coming within view. Finally he was _saved_. However, for a fleeting moment when Lilly's car had pulled up and her window had rolled down, he would have rather taken his chances with walking to his house than be confined in the same area as his enraged friend. But the thought quickly vanished when his eyes caught slight of a staring man seated off in the corner with a half filled beer bottle in hand. Without another thought, Oliver quickly jumped into his friend's car and locked the vehicle's doors.

"Tell me," Lilly breathed lowly after minutes of silence passed between them. "Tell me why I'm picking you up at eight thirty-three on a school night when I have a Physics paper due tomorrow? Tell me, Oliver, or I will not hesitate to drive this car into a tree so we both won't make it out alive."

"I. . . insulted Hannah Montana and she threw water at me while my boss simultaneously fired me."

There was an aching pause from Lilly, her eyes directed on the road before them. Finally, after taking in a deep breath, she responded numbly, "that's why?"

Oliver swallowed down thick air before replying, "well, sorta, yeah."

A smile stretched across the blonde's face in return. "Oken, you simply amaze me."

He exhaled a sharp breath of relief, chocking on the sudden release. "Th-thanks," he managed weakly between coughs.

"So what did you tell her to piss her off so much?" asked Lilly, slightly smug.

"I basically implied that she was fat."

Lilly gasped at the said words, pushing Oliver lightly before squealing, "Oliver! That's horrible!"

"Well, it's pretty obvious she isn't," shrugged the brunet. "But whatever, right? At least I pissed her off."

"You're crazy, Oken."

-  
-

The next day began relatively the same aside from the fact that now Oliver was currently jobless. Regardless of his loss, he continued his morning rituals with little falter and now was stepping off his bus to meet an awaiting Lilly inside the building. Strangely today, however, Oliver found no Lilly where they usually met. Assuming she might be sick or running late, he continued down the crowded hallways and suddenly noticed the halls were slightly more overpopulated than normal. Finally he spotted the blonde standing stiffly aside of a brewing crowd of students. Cocking an eyebrow, Oliver ventured closer and approached Lilly whom back was still turned toward him

"What's all the fuss?" he questioned Lilly's frozen form, standing aside of his friend while he scanned the gathering crowd. "Amber cut her hair the wrong way or something?"

"N-no," Lilly barely replied, her voice half there.

The boy blinked blankly, peering downward at his friend before shifting his gaze on the now dissipating body of students. Suddenly, his eyes fell on the presence drawing in everyone's undivided attention. His mouth gaped open and he was nearly rendered speechless. Instead he stuttered out the words, "N-no, Lilly. T-that c-can't be. . ."

"Oh and how I wish it wasn't," she groaned.

"Shit, I can't let her see me!" Oliver exclaimed. "She'll eat me alive or her security guards will permanently break my leg or –"

"Oliver!" Lilly attempted to interrupt her terrified friend and usher him away from the incoming crowd.

"Y-you!" screeched a voice suddenly. Oliver and Lilly turned to the source of voice, their hearts dropping when Hannah Montana pointed an accusing finger at them.

"Wh-why are you here?" Oliver questioned desperately.

Hannah slightly inclined her chin in arrogance, placing her hands on her hips before answering, "We just moved. I _go_ here now."

"Oliver, you know Hannah Montana?" squealed Amber and Ashley from the sidelines.

The moment stretched and terror crystallized itself within Oliver, already too overwhelmed to respond. Hannah glanced at the two squealing girls then redirected her stare back onto the paled boy before her, smirking slightly. "So your name's Oliver, is it?"


	3. 3

**Author's Notes:** Yes, folks. I am back. Sorry for the long update. I kinda hit a pretty big writers block and I'm still slightly suffering from it.**  
Author's Warnings:** Due to the AUness of this story, characters are most likely going to be slightly out of character, especially Miley/Hannah's. However, please keep in mind the circumstances of the plotline before you flame or complain.**  
Disclaimer:**I don't associate with any characters nor do I plan to. Therefore the lack of contact and custody means I don't own a thing. Pity, really. Oh, and the story's title is lyrics taken from The Academy Is...'s song, _Everything We Had_.**  
Title's credit goes to: Mayday Parade **(lately, I just can't get enough of them!)

3.  
_When I Get Home, You're So Dead_

"_So your name's Oliver, is it?"_

Oliver felt an invisible hand clamp painfully around his stomach's insides while Hannah's words simultaneously knocked the wind out of him. He remained speechless, pale, and, to be honest, _terrified_.

Hannah's smirk widened and grew terribly corrupt, noticing the fear illuminating from his stricken form. "Well, Oliver, welcome to your first day in _hell_."

-  
-

It had been three weeks. Three _weeks_ since Hannah Montana decided to reside in Oliver's school, rendering his life a truly living hell, just as she promised. The brunet ducked his head, quickly rushing past the several hallways of the populated school. He paused, glancing upward to see the blonde celebrity waltzing out a nearby classroom and he quickly pivoted and headed into a different direction. Honestly, couldn't _anyone_ give him a break? First he ruined Hannah's dinner and now she's ruining his _life_. Yeah, apparently no one really worked in his regard. Except for Lilly, of course.

"Lilly," he groaned childishly as he swiftly slid into the circular lunch table's seat, disgruntled. The girl peered up from her packed lunch and raised an eyebrow, indicating that she was listening. "Please _tell_ me tomorrow will be better."

"Tomorrow will be better?" she repeated with uncertainty. Oliver groaned in return. "Oh come on, Oliver. It _will_ eventually get better. I mean, the school won't be obsessed with Hannah for _that_ long. They'll leave you alone sometime."

"_Sometime_?" he emphasized. "That could mean two years from now!"

"Well, yeah, but –" he shot her a crippling glare and she quickly redirected to where her sentence was previously heading, "I mean, don't worry about it. If Hannah's as nasty as you say she is – which, _of course_ she has to be – then the school _will_ get tired with her."

Oliver frowned, highly unconvinced but he knew there wasn't much support Lilly could give him. Even_ sitting_ with him was nearly fatal to her social status. Not that she really gave a toss about it. But still, if she did…

"You smell funny," she commented, frowning. She then examined his body with keener eyes, her frown deepening. "Oh god, Oliver. Don't tell me they threw you in a trashcan –"

"PE," he muttered.

"How immature!" Lilly hissed with disproval. "God, seriously, just when you _think_ people will get over themselves and their stupid middle school drama, you have idiots like –"

Somewhere mid sentence Oliver had tuned Lilly out. It wasn't like he didn't appreciate her and her opinion, but honestly, girls really did talk too damn much. It apparently hadn't occurred to them that they could get their ideas across with a few words rather than two paragraphs full of them. But of course, they assumingly believed the more they talked the more people would listen. Unfortunately, that was definitely _not_ the case.

"Oliver? _Oliver_. Are you even listening to me?!"

The brunet snapped quickly out his thoughts, his attention returning back to the blonde and nodding quickly. "Yeah," he replied.

"Well, then, what the hell did I just say?" He froze and she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Honestly, Oliver, couldn't you _at least_ pretend you're listening to me? I mean, all I'm trying to do is –"

There she goes again, he thought grimly.

"–but anyways, oh shoot, the bell just rang."

The two quickly discarded their half-eaten lunches and maneuvered themselves about the lunch room and toward their next class they, thankfully, had together. Once they settled themselves in their usual seats, their quirky and unceremonious teacher cleared her dry throat and began with the day's lessons and announcements. "Class, since we've had enough time to settle in the past few weeks, I believe for the next remaining weeks we'll have a partner project," Mrs. Lenon in her raspy, old voice began. She watched as her students' faces remained indifferent and quickly added, "_I_'_ll_ be picking the partners."

There was a terrible uproar as a response.

"Now, now class!" Her sharp voice cut through the protests, diminishing the groans just as quickly as they filled the air. "I will begin with Miss Hannah Montana and…" Mrs. Lenon's eyes swept sharply across the sea of seated students, all but two whom were quite anxious at the chance to be the blonde's partner. Of course, their dreams had quickly collapsed when she continued, "Miss Lilly Truscott."

Lilly's jaw dropped open before turning to Oliver with pleading eyes. The brunet could only bare a weak smile of empathy, shrugging half-heartedly at her until the teacher had demanded their attention by calling out Oliver's name next. "Oliver Oken and Ashley Dewitt."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Oliver groaned, the same perturbed look etched into his and Ashley's expressions. He yelped when Lilly punched him forcibly in the arm; cradling his damaged body part before shooting her a glare.

She sharply returned his glare, equally crippling if not more. "_You're_ complaining? I've got Montana – _which I'm positive isn't even her last name_ – as a partner!"

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty certain she'll get someone to _do_ the project with you!" defended Oliver. "While I'm stuck with Airhead Ashley over there. Breathing is hard enough for her!"

"Okay," Lilly sighed, motioning for the two of them to calm down before she continued evenly, "I've got an idea. Why don't we both do our separate projects at the same time and at the same place? That way, we'll still be together and Ashley can fawn over Hannah more. It's a win-win situation for the all of us."

"Do you think she'll agree?" he frowned.

"Who? Ashley? Of course," answered the blonde, nodding quickly to emphasize her certainty. "I'm sure Hannah won't disagree either. The only people she's given her time of day to _are_ Amber and Ashley."

"Alright, sounds good." Oliver agreed just as Ashley and Hannah had simultaneously maneuvered themselves around the chattering classroom and begrudgingly toward their new partners.

"Okay Oken," Ashley hissed, narrowing her eyes while Oliver rolled his. "I know you hate this as much as I do. And I'm pretty sure Hannah _doesn't_ want to be partnered with a loser either, but we're gonna have to make this work somehow."

"Which is why I'm going to propose the idea of us working on our projects together," Lilly casually informed although there was an evident strain to her voice.

"But why would we work together?" questioned Ashley. "We're different partners, remember Truscott?"

"She doesn't mean together –" Oliver began before Hannah finished.

"–she means separate but during the same time." Ashley's expression still appeared blank. "As in, we're at the same place working on separate projects."

"…_Ohhhh_," Ashley finally responded, nodding as her face beamed at the opportunity to spend more time with the popstar. "That actually sounds like a good idea, Truscott. I'm surprised."

"Oh really?" Lilly strained, cocking an eyebrow. "You'll be even more surprised when I –"

Oliver grabbed his friend's enclosed fist before it could make any type of contact with the Asian girl before them. He then proceeded to yank it under the desk and away from anyone before it could do some serious damage. "What she means," he muttered to Ashley and Hannah after giving her a quick and sharp glare, "we'll start working on it whenever you guys are ready."

"But first," Lilly managed to slip in, her hardened eyes falling directly upon Hannah. "Stop bitching at Oliver, Montana. If not, I'll throw this grade completely and I'm pretty sure you'll 'achy breaky' your dad's heart."

Hannah appeared quite reluctant to agreeing to Lilly's offer, exchanging her cold stare before averting the seated girl's gaze all together and mumbling, "_whatever_." She paused before lowly adding, "what a lame-ass joke."

"Oh, don't worry. I've got plenty more where that came from," Lilly smiled sarcastically. Ashley then shot her a disgusted expression and ushered the celebrity off into their little corner, leaving the two outcasts at peace.

"You just _had_ to tell Hannah to leave me alone, didn't you?" groaned Oliver once they were out of earshot. "Couldn't you have just left our conversation where it was?"

"You just _had_ to prevent me from punching Ashley, didn't you?" the blonde mocked in return. "Come on, Oliver. You know these past couple of weeks have been a living hell for you. And it's all because of Hannah. She doesn't own this school and she certainly doesn't own _your_ reputation. No one does _but_ you."

"I guess you're right," he sighed before lowering his head slightly. "But really, Lilly, 'I'm pretty sure you'll _achy breaky_ your dad's heart'? That _was_ lame. Intensely lame."

"So sue me!" Lilly snapped. "It's the only thing I could think of!"

Oliver sighed in return, wondering if the following week's events would either make him or break him.

* * *

**Author's notes: **I'd like to again apologize for such the long update, kiddos. My comp is fried and no one in my family has actually tried to _do_ something about it. I'm still here and alive so don't get your hopes up on the story! Thanks and reviews are always appreciated!


	4. 4

**Author's Notes:** Stillllll having a huge writer's block. I have an idea how to get to the ending, or rather, I have an idea _for_ the ending. The only problem is the chapters in between. Hah**  
Author's Warnings:** Due to the AUness of this story, characters are most likely going to be slightly out of character, especially Miley/Hannah's. However, please keep in mind the circumstances of the plotline before you flame or complain.**  
Disclaimer: **I don't associate with any characters nor do I plan to. Therefore the lack of contact and custody means I don't own a thing. Pity, really. Oh, and the story's title is lyrics taken from The Academy Is...'s song, _Everything We Had_.**  
Title's credit goes to: My Favorite Highway **(I suggest you listen to themmmm)

4.  
_You're Making It Come Alive_

A frown painted itself across Lilly's face and she gripped tightly on the vehicle's gray steering wheel as her eyes swooped across the sterling silver gates. Oliver slumped into his seat, glancing at his friend seated aside of him before directing it elsewhere.

"You _sure_ we got the right address?"

She nodded dimly before sighing. "You know, we shouldn't be surprised by it. I mean, she _is_ a celebrity."

"Well, yeah, but I don't think we should've agreed to meet here," Oliver mumbled in return as his eyes scanned the extravagant beach house mansion the popstar had conveniently resided in. "I mean, I feel so out of place."

"Make that the both of us," agreed Lilly, glancing at her rearview mirror and her frown deepened. "Ashley just pulled up behind us. We _definitely_ got the right place."

"Keep driving then," Oliver urged, gripping tightly onto his seat's leather material as he felt the car lurch beneath and begin to move up the winding cobbled road to the mansion's entrance with Ashley's car in suit. It took another ten minutes to reach the main doors and Lilly hesitantly parked her SUV alongside the street's roundabout.

"Alright Truscott and Oken." Oliver and Lilly rolled their eyes, the banshee-like voice hitting their eyes upon their departure from Lilly's welcoming car. They reeled themselves about to face the petite girl with sunglasses overwhelming half of her face. She could've been pretty if she didn't cake on so much damn makeup. "Here's the rules, you leave Hannah _alone_. I'm sure she doesn't want to work with you, Truscott, almost as much as I don't want to work with Oken."

"We get the point, Ashley," Lilly sighed. "We're _only_ doing this because we don't want to be with you two either. If we just finish our projects as fast as we can then we'll be out of each other's way in no time."

Ashley pulled her sunglasses over her head, fitting it like headband before nodding. Arrogance was written all over her face and she inclined her chin slightly before striding ahead to the mansion's entrance. Oliver and Lilly exchanged glances before following her less enthused. She rang the doorbell, stepping back when the large door swung open to reveal a blond, expressionless boy.

He peered tentatively at the three teens before rolling his eyes slightly when realization dawned upon him. "I assume you're here for 'Hannah Montana'?" His southern accent was just as thick as Hannah's if not more.

"Yeah but. . ." Lilly glanced at Oliver before Ashley continued blatantly, "Who are _you_?"

The blond's eyes grew a stormy, murky color as he gathered his attention directly toward the oblivious girl. "Jackson." His previous lethargic tone was overwhelmed with complete bitterness now. "Hannah's _brother_."

"Never heard of you." Ashley replied, cocking an eyebrow as ignorance spilled over her words. "In fact, I don't think _anyone_ has."

A sarcastic smile was brought to his lips. "I'd like to keep it that way." He then paused before opening the rest of the door and stepped aside. "Anyways, follow me. I'll take you to her room."

The three nodded, allowing him to lead the way. Oliver scanned the hallways and rooms they passed, along with the extravagant furniture and priceless objects held within them. When he turned back to ask Jackson a question, however, he found no Jackson, Lilly, nor Ashley in sight. _Shit_. Oliver searched the nearby hallways for any sign of his friend, discarding the thought of becoming even more lost in the several halls as he continued wandering deeper into the large house.

"Hello?" Oliver yelled in hopes to catch their attention but to no avail. He eventually sighed, pausing to run a hand through his hair when he assumed his yelling tactics were deemed useless. Fantastic, he thought bitterly, he was lost in Hannah Montana's house.

Turning to his side he found a table pushed against a wall with several picture frames resting on its wooden surface. He curiously stepped toward it, leaning down to level himself with the pictures contained within the frames' glass walls. His eyes scanned each one, assuming the baby in some of the pictures was Hannah herself.

One Jackson was holding tightly onto a squirming Hannah with a proud and large smile stretching his lips across his chubby cheeks. He appeared to be around the age three while she was still a young baby, maybe around one or two. The next picture contained a seven year old Hannah with wavy brown hair clinging onto her father's hand with her own and a red balloon occupying her other hand. She was beaming at him with admiration as her yellow sundress blew wildly around in back of her. Oliver's eyes then shifted the last photo that held a brunette Hannah holding hands with an elderly man and a smiling woman.

Oliver straightened himself before taking a hold of the captivating picture of an innocent Hannah who appeared to have held the entire world in her hands. She didn't look young, not like her other pictures, maybe around the age of eleven or twelve. He could feel a strange, crooked smile itching at his lips as he continued staring fondly at the captured memory. She looked almost. . . _happy_. An emotion she appeared to have long forgotten about years ago upon the start of her popular career.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hannah spat, enraged and clearly upset. Her eyes narrowed as they drew daggers at Oliver's wandering and prodding form. He blinked in return, tearing his gaze from the picture before reeling himself around to look at her.

"I. . ." Actually, he really didn't have much of a clue what he was doing. Great, Oken. Just great.

"What are you doing with that picture?!" she shrieked next before storming her way toward him, snatching the gold encrusted frame out of his apparent unworthy hands and set it carefully aside. "_Why_ are you looking through my things?! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm _lost_," he snapped in response. "Your brother or whoever the hell answered the doorbell left me behind. Lilly and Ashley are probably in your room." He then turned to gaze at the display table, raising an eyebrow before adding, "and if you _don't_ want me or anyone else to look through your 'things' then I suggest you put them away."

"I want to," she muttered bitterly, her eyes now transfixed on the picture she took from Oliver. "And I would if my dad wasn't such an ass about it." She bit back a sigh before breaking her gaze from the picture and returned it back upon him. "Come on. I'm sure your girlfriend is wondering where you are."

"Girlfriend?" he repeated before realizing Hannah was assumingly referring to Lilly. He followed the blonde into the next hall and toward what appeared to be a chain of bedroom doors before insisting, "Lilly isn't my girlfriend."

"Whatever the hell she is then," Hannah replied evenly, opening the third door and revealed a room similar to a suite. In the middle stood Lilly, Ashley, and Jackson, waiting patiently for the two to arrive.

"Oliver, where were you?" Lilly asked immediately.

"I just was. . . lost." he answered blankly, rolling his eyes when Ashley opened her mouth to speak.

"Typical, Oken." she sneered. He didn't respond, too preoccupied with other thoughts.

The picture of a younger Hannah smiling was still fresh in his mind and as he snuck a quick glance at the blonde he wondered if that same beaming girl was hidden somewhere under that Hollywood complexion.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Yeah, this chapter sucked hardcore _and_ it pretty much looks like a filler but oh well. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Feedback please?


	5. 5

**Author's Notes:** Alright guys, I'm back on track. Writing Oliver/Lilly and Joe/Miley stories actually worked! : )**  
Author's Warnings:** Due to the AUness of this story, characters are most likely going to be slightly out of character, especially Miley/Hannah's. However, please keep in mind the circumstances of the plotline before you flame or complain.**  
Disclaimer: **I don't associate with any characters nor do I plan to. Therefore the lack of contact and custody means I don't own a thing. Pity, really. Oh, and the story's title is lyrics taken from The Academy Is...'s song, _Everything We Had_.**  
Title's credit goes to: Paramore**

5.  
_Until Tomorrow_

As his parents' vehicle continued to move under him, Oliver leaned his cheek against his seatbelt's harsh fabric and began to feel the heavy affects of drowsiness pull at his body, slowly seducing him into a light sleep. Minutes later, however, his slumber was broken and he jerked awake to his vibrating cell phone his parents had recently given him after much pleading. He reluctantly extracted it from his jeans' pocket, bringing the shuddering device to his ear and managed a throaty, "'ullo?"

"Oliver, it's me."

He blinked before rubbing the sleep from his vision. "Lilly, what's wrong? I thought you were working on that project with Hannah today."

"I was," she sighed, irritation lacing into her tone. "But Miss Montana cancelled plans last minute on me – when I was right in front of her house! Her brother said she had a 'prior commitment to attend' but I _know_ it's a load of bull. She probably just cancelled to piss me off. I know she hates me."

"I dunno," he yawned, "she didn't seem so bothered by you a few days ago when we went over her house."

"You're so lucky you finished your project with Ashley," mourned Lilly, "we barely got started with ours!"

"You're almost done," Oliver insisted before leaning toward the car's window, his breath steaming the translucent slate as he peered out into the sky. Lilly's words seemed to stretch across the empty atmosphere as he failed to listen to her complaints, only catching the last proportion of her rant.

"I just _can't_ stand her. She's so incredibly stuck up its sickening. You _have_ to go to her house with me tomorrow or I think I'll die. Which reminds me, why couldn't you today?"

"I already told you," he answered blatantly, "I'm going to the cemetery to plant flowers around my grandma's grave."

"Oh," was the blonde's response. She didn't seem to want to press Oliver any further, understanding the death of his grandmother was a very touché subject to him. Instead she diverted the conversation elsewhere, "You know, I can't believe Hannah and Jackson are related. He seems so. . ."

"Ashamed to be related to Hannah?" Oliver supplied, a smirk stretching across his lips when he heard a giggle on the other end. "Yeah, I can see why with the way she acts."

"I know! I'm surprised her dad hasn't said anything to her but I'm pretty sure she wouldn't listen to him even if he did."

_"I want to," she muttered bitterly, her eyes now transfixed on the picture she took from Oliver. "And I would if my dad wasn't such an ass about it."_

Oliver paused, the scene between himself and Hannah replaying over and over again in his mind before he managed to shake the images away. "Maybe. Listen, I'll call you later, we just got to the cemetery."

"Alright, bye."

Without a proper goodbye he quickly ended the call, tossing the cell phone aside before he swung his car door open and followed his parents into the graveyard. It appeared almost as if silence had devoured the entire area; an eerie feeling lingering amidst the quieted bodies. Oliver never liked cemeteries, though he assumed really _no_ _one_ did. It was almost like the gateway between the living and the dead. Like an unbreakable barrier between loved ones and _their_ loved ones.

"I'm so glad we decided to come today," he heard his mother sigh mournfully to her husband, "the last flowers we planted aren't looking too good now." She turned her teary gaze upon Oliver next. "Oliver, be a dear and pull the old flowers out."

"Okay," he agreed quietly before dropping to his knees; leveling himself with his grandma's worn tombstone and began to gingerly extract the limp flowers from the earth they thrived in. After brushing the dirt from his jeans, he stood with the dead flowers in hand, and discarded them in the nearest tin trashcan which was located a few feet away.

He heard them hit the bottom of the empty waste can with a small 'cling' accompanying the collision and when he turned to glance at his parents, he decided to make his journey back a little longer than he should have. His mother was in near sobs while his father began comforting her. Oliver didn't really feel like it was his place to look or talk to his parents, guiltily feeling embarrassment rise in his chest at the sight of his broken family.

Instead, he directed his gaze to the heavens above, noticing August was quickly coming to an end and September's devouring winter was creeping closer than he assumed. The air was crisp and clouds were beginning to gather. He thought the graying sky was quite fitting of the lonely cemetery and strangely gave him a settling feeling. The idea of having a bright, unblemished day over a place where the dead slept instead just didn't feel right to him at all.

It didn't set the mood, he supposed silently as his eyes scanned over the bare land until it had caught sight of something rather peculiar.

"What?" he found himself questioning out loud. He squinted to better zero in on the object that had held his interest and, on a closer investigation, confirmed his questions.

_What the hell was Hannah Montana doing in the same graveyard_?

Despite his better judgment Oliver crept closer, straining his ears to hear the hushed conversation between Hannah and her brother whom accompanied her.

"Miley, come on. We have to go," Jackson urged quietly. "We can't stay here the whole day _and_ it looks like its going to rain."

Miley? Oliver blinked. That must be her real name – he _knew_ Hannah Montana had to be a stage one.

Hannah steered her fixated gaze from the tombstones to her brother, her expression hardening. "I can't believe you don't even care anymore, Jackson! Dad's even stopped coming now. Are _you_ going to too?"

Jackson frowned. "No, I'd never. But that doesn't mean we have to stay here for hours on end, Miles. Mom and grandpa are dead. There's not much else we can do to change that and staying here for the whole day won't make anything better."

"So then that's it," Hannah snapped. "You just think because they're gone we shouldn't waste our time on visiting them anymore? You think we should forget them all together?"

"No," he answered sharply, "of course not. But you're canceling shows, you're canceling plans – you're just _not_ the same, Miley. And you know it. There's _nothing_ you can do to make them come back and there's nothing you did that could have prevented them from –"

"Shut up!" she screeched suddenly. She was trembling now. From anger or from despondence Oliver couldn't decipher. He didn't want to. "Just go, Jackson. _You_ can go home but I'm staying here."

"But the limo –"

"I'll figure something out," she insisted starkly before reeling herself around and coldly dismissed her brother.

Jackson appeared defeated, his shoulders slumping as he quietly agreed. He then turned in the opposite direction and, after bidding Hannah a solemn goodbye, departed ways with the blonde celebrity. Oliver's eyes followed the brother until he disappeared into a black limo and rode out of the cemetery's opened gates and onto the main road. The brunet then returned his attention back onto to Hannah only to find the popstar was staring him squarely back in the eyes.

_Shit_.

"_You_!" she accused darkly, her eyes narrowing with complete hatred. "What the hell do you think you're doing spying on me –"

"I'm here to plant flowers for my grandma's grave actually," he interrupted icily, swiftly cutting her across. The word 'grave' seemed to have strung a spot and he saw her falter when she slightly winced. It was subtle, but it was there. "So no, I'm _not_ stalking you or anything. Sorry to disappoint you, Hannah."

She stared long and hard at him before averting his gaze completely, forcing, "whatever, _sorry_." Silence then ensued between the two teens and minutes began to inch by until the quieted air was eventually broken.

"You know," Oliver muttered while he held his steady gaze on her. "We've got extra flowers if you, you know, want to plant flowers or anything around those graves." She lifted her stare upon his sincere suggestion, peering at him with suspicion creeping behind her eyes. "That is, if you want to."

"You don't owe me anything," she informed him wearily.

"I know," he simply replied in return. "But I don't think I have to."

"I've been a complete bitch to you," she reminded him, almost pleadingly. Like she wanted him to wake from his apparent trance and just push her away. "I made your life a living hell for the past couple of weeks."

He grimaced. "Yeah, don't remind me."

Hannah now appeared overly frustrated with his unexpected understanding. "I don't get it, Oken. I treat you like shit and you're offering me flowers when I clearly don't deserve them or your stupid pity."

"Then don't take them if you don't want them that much," snapped Oliver. "Listen, I'm just trying to be nice because I think I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. Everyone does. _Everyone_ feels the same."

"Not when you're the cause of it," she bitterly replied. "You don't _feel_ the same at all."

Oliver was about to respond only to hear his parents approaching them with extra flowers in hand. His mother was the first to notice Hannah's unexpected presence, peering around her son to look at the girl.

"Oliver, dear, whose your friend?" _Why on earth are you meeting her at the cemetery?_ "Would she like some flowers?"

"No thanks," she declined quietly. "I only plant lilacs. . . it's, uh, their favorite."

Oliver's mom smiled understanding before whispering to the brunet, "we're ready to go whenever you are" and ushered her husband back into their car.

Oliver glanced at Hannah whom directed her attention on the tombstones aside of each other, disregarding him all together. But he didn't want to talk to her anyways. Not now. He didn't have anything else to say. Instead he gave her one last look and reeled himself around, quickly returning to his car. Once he climbed in and shut the door behind him he heard his mother's expected voice.

"Oliver, dear, is that poor girl all alone? Who is she? Is she one of your classmates?"

-  
-

"Hi sweetie," Billy Ray greeted his daughter once she returned home. She chose not to respond and instead rushed right past him. Frowning, he turned toward her and sighed. "I understand. . . By the way, someone sent you something earlier today. I put it in front of your room."

Hannah felt her eyes widen slightly but refused to turn around, continuing to hurry down several halls until she reached her room. Under the threshold laid a bouquet of lilacs addressed to her but from presentably no one.

She didn't need a card to know who sent them to her.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Yep, this is definitely angsted out to the fullest. But it's _not_ a filler and it's an update – a long one at that! Review/thoughts?


	6. 6

**Author's Warnings:** Due to the AUness of this story, characters are most likely going to be slightly out of character, especially Miley/Hannah's. However, please keep in mind the circumstances of the plotline before you flame or complain.**  
Disclaimer: **I don't associate with any characters nor do I plan to. Therefore the lack of contact and custody means I don't own a thing. Pity, really. Oh, and the story's title is lyrics taken from The Academy Is...'s song, _Everything We Had_.**  
Title's credit goes to: Landon Pigg**

6.  
_Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop_

Rummaging through his closet, Oliver grabbed a green polo shirt and quickly replaced it with his regular t-shirt. After attempting to fix his hair which just wasn't behaving, he gave up and hurried down a flight of stairs to see his mother was waiting for him at the foot of them.

"Hurry up, Oliver, we don't want you being late to your job on your first day –" she began to chastise until he swiftly cut her off.

"Yeah, I know mom," he rolled his eyes, irritated, "but I'm _just_ working at Coffee Bean – I'll have a waitering job in no time."

"You don't know that," she disagreed when he opened the front door and headed out. Following after her son, she continued, "you could have this job for quite awhile, now I know it isn't as well paying as your other one but –"

Oliver shot his mom a glare and she sighed visibly, however, failed to finish. Instead she opened her car door while Oliver got into the passenger's seat and they were quickly off, driving for the next ten minutes until they reached the publicized and consumer-eating coffee shop. The brunet entered without giving his mother a goodbye, instantly running into a curly haired redhead whom had a larger nametag indicating her apparent higher status than the rest of the employees.

"You're Oliver, I take it? Well it's your job to take the orders," his manager began, a little nicer and approachable than his last frantic and harsh one. He nodded his head slightly and followed her around the counter and took his position near the cash register.

Hours rolled by and Oliver served around twenty people, their faces blurred and unidentifiable by the fifth one. Instead all he catered and took care about was their orders and their money. It was a boring, consistent job, but he guessed it was nice opposed to a restaurant's busy, bustling flow. For once, he could just relax and smell the roses – rather, _coffee_.

The lunch rush had just ended and when Oliver glanced at the nearby hanging clock he was happy to discover his break was within the next ten minutes. However, what he wasn't happy to find was the next costumer whom was entering. His eyes fell on the sauntering teen hiding behind large white sunglasses, a barrette concealing the rest of her blonde locks, and her body underneath a pricey jacket while her skinny jeans clung to her thin legs and the heel of her shoes.

If this is what Hannah believes a 'disguise' is then she's gravely mistaken.

And it looked as if the celebrity hadn't even taken notice of his presence until she reached the counter, pausing dramatically as realization smacked her right across the face.

Oliver just had to pick this coffee shop, didn't he?

"Oken?" Hannah questioned as she slid her big sunglasses to the bridge of her nose, arching an eyebrow as bewilderment flooded her eyes and matched the amount in his.

However, his quickly vanished and the brunet felt a sarcastic smirk stretch his lips in return. "I assumed we'd run into each other again – just never here." He leaned over the counter casually, perhaps pushing his boundaries a little too far in the process as the blonde withdrew slightly. "Well, you're not gonna get me fired from this job, are you? 'Cause, if it makes you any happier, _this_ is another living hell in my life. _Just_ like school. It's almost like a win, win situation for you. Like it's _always_ for you."

"I. . ." she paused before narrowing her eyes sharply and slid her sunglasses up to conceal them, "_shut up_. I didn't ask you to have this job and it certainly _wasn't_ my fault you were fired from your other one. And plus, _you're_ the one who insulted me so you're the one who brought that upon yourself."

"Oh yeah," he replied in a clipped tone. "It's definitely my fault you didn't even give me the time of day when I was doing _my_ job trying to serve _you_ water. You're the one who insulted me first. You should've expected me to say something back."

"Is this going to happen every time we talk, Oken?" she snapped bitterly, bringing her hand to gesture between herself and Oliver. "We're just going to argue and fight?"

"Well, I don't see why we should give it up," he responded dryly, "I mean, we've gotten so _good_ at it and all."

"I'm serious," she hissed, "I _know_ I intended to make your life a living hell, I just didn't think you'd tried to ruin mine too."

"I'm ruining _yours_?" repeated Oliver, flabbergasted. "I – how? You're over there living your perfect little dream while I'm getting beaten the shit out of in mine!"

"Oh please," Hannah dismissed, "at least you've got your real friends; everyone else is automatically in love with me just because they think I'll ruin their lives just as easily as I ruined yours."

"What about your 'celebrity' friends?" he pointed out. "They've got nothing to gain from being friends with you if they're already famous."

"You think Mikayla and I are actually friends?" she questioned bitterly. "That bitch has had it out for me since the minute I stepped into Hollywood. She absolutely _hates_ me, though I can't say I'm very fond of her either."

"Well –"

"Oliver, do you think you could give your friend her order and talk to her on your _own_ time?" Oliver's manager cut in. He turned to her, surprised she hadn't noticed the blonde starlit standing right in front of her. "Your break's in about two minutes, which gives you just enough of time to get her order in."

"I think she was just about to leave," he replied lamely.

"Oh, no," Hannah smiled sarcastically. "I was _just_ getting started. And I'll have water, you know, I want to _watch_ _my weight_. Right, Oliver?"

He leveled her corrupt smile with a crippling glare before he turned his manager whom had a plastic cup filled to the brim with water and quickly handed her it before ushering the two off and away from the counter. The pair settled in a table far back from the counter and the manager's monitoring eyes, their blood already running high from the previous insults exchanged between them and they quickly jumped into another conversation.

"Your driver is probably waiting, you know," he muttered darkly.

"Don't worry about him," she assured, "he's paid by the hour. I'm sure he's perfectly content with me taking my time."

Oliver sighed, scratching the nape of his neck nervously. "Well then, why are you here in the first place? Don't celebrities, like, I don't know, drink Starbucks or something?"

"I'd go there if I was in mood for people bombarding me with autographs and pictures," answered Hannah. "Even if I tried to hide myself, someone would notice me. Coffee Bean seemed the next best thing."

"Why the hell didn't you buy coffee if you went through all that trouble then?"

It was Hannah's turn to sigh, her shoulders slumping as she placed her arms on the table separating the two. A frown replaced her confident smile and her eyebrows furrowed together. "To be honest, I was going to until I saw you. But then we started arguing and everything. I just, I don't know, it just made me think you'd feel as if you won if I bought coffee and then walked myself right out." After pausing momentarily she added quietly, "and I just. . . wanted to thank you for yesterday."

He flushed upon her sincere gratitude. "What do you mean?" he mumbled, averting her blunt eye contact she was offering now.

"You know, the flowers," she responded faintly. "You didn't need to. And after what I said to you. I mean, I really _don't_ understand how you could be nice to me. After everything, you know? I obviously don't deserve it."

Oliver brought himself to lift his eyes, finally locking eyes with Hannah through her sunglasses. "Maybe because I think _somehow_ you're an actual human being. Not just Hannah Montana but _Miley_." Her eyes widened at the mention of her real name but quickly covered her falter when she realized Oliver had assumingly overheard her brother address her by 'Miley'. "I mean, obviously there's something more to Hannah or Miley or whoever you are, right? I don't know what happened to your mom or your grandpa but it hurt you, _really_ hurt you, and that's all I need to know that there's much more to whoever you and the rest of the word perceives you as."

Hannah stood to her feet at the end of his response, peering at him through her dark tinted sunglasses before completely taking them off her face. Oliver could see pain flash across her eyes and he remained immobile while he could hear her softly whisper, "they died. . . because of me. Because they were driving to one of my concerts. They died in a car accident."

Oliver's mouth stupidly hung agape upon the news and Hannah was off, hurrying out of the coffee shop and into her awaiting limo.

"Hmmm," he heard from behind him and he turned around only to find his manager staring at the limo now driving off, "sweet ride. What is she, famous or something?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Wellllll, to be honest, I wasn't planning on updating this week, but inspiration hit me at, like, two o'clock in the morning and I just went with it. So hopefully, with such a fast update, I'll get reviews? :)  
&I hope the chapter's title didn't fool you into thinking I was rushing the story so fast that Oliver and Hannah would magically fall in love. But I just _had_ to use one of Landon Pigg's song, after all, I'm gonna marry him and stuff :D Of course, right after I give Patrick Stumph a go.  
Getting back on point, I really hope you guys liked the chapter and the little secret revealed at the end. Keep the reviews coming too please!


	7. 7

**Author's Warnings:** Due to the AUness of this story, characters are most likely going to be slightly out of character, especially Miley/Hannah's. However, please keep in mind the circumstances of the plotline before you flame or complain.**  
Disclaimer: **I don't associate with any characters nor do I plan to. Therefore the lack of contact and custody means I don't own a thing. Pity, really. Oh, and the story's title is lyrics taken from The Academy Is...'s song, _Everything We Had_.**  
Title's credit goes to: LoveHateHero**

7.  
_This Dream Called Life  
_

Spaghetti or a meatball sandwich? Mmm.

Oliver scanned grimly at the school cafeteria's grotesque concussions and felt his stomach lurch when he swore he saw the meatball sandwich twitch under his stare. Maybe just a bottle of water would be fine for today. The brunet then quickly backtracked out of the line and toward the usual lunch table he and Lilly resided at for the period. The blonde was already eating the readymade food from her house she packed the night before, munching on a few of her Lay's chips.

"No food, Oken?" she questioned when he seated himself across from her empty handed. "You got your paycheck yesterday, right?"

"The spaghetti's sauce looked pretty gross," he responded lowly, "and I think the meatball sandwich moved when I was looking at it."

"That's not a surprise," giggled the blonde before pushing the brown paper bag rested astray of her toward him. "Here, take my yogurt. There's a spoon in the bag."

"Thanks," Oliver smiled weakly as he dug his hand into the depths of the paper bag, retracting a container filled with strawberry yogurt and a plastic spoon. He ripped the cover off, flinging it into a nearby trashcan before taking a gracious scoop of the thick substance and happily stuck it in his mouth.

"You know, I haven't seen Hannah today," Lilly mused as she nibbled on her turkey sandwich. "She wasn't in any of my earlier classes."

"Isn't there a football game today anyways? Maybe she's singing the national anthem or something," he suggested, not entirely interested on wherever Lilly was taking the conversation's direction to. Last Sunday's coffee encounter appeared to have seared itself in his brain and he couldn't help but notice his bitterness had lessened a great deal towards her. He knew it really shouldn't, considering what the popstar had done to him prior to her apology, but it felt like it should. It really felt like it should.

"I don't know but she _better_ be here for next period, we might have to present our presentation today and I can't do it if she's not there." Lilly frowned. "I really hope she didn't flake out on me. I mean, she's gotta have at least some integrity and some sort of heart not to."

"I'm pretty sure she does," assured Oliver after swallowing down his third spoonful of yogurt. Just as he took his sixth scoop, nearly emptying out the entire carton, the bell had rung. The pair then stood to their feet, discarding the rest of their lunch and headed to their next class.

When the warning bell echoed across the hallways a third of the class was already in their assigned seats while the rest mingled about the classroom. There was still no sign of Hannah and Oliver glanced at Lilly to find his friend profoundly pissed off at the celebrity's absence.

"Now settle down class!" Mrs. Lenon demanded, her voice rising above her students'. "The bell's just about to ring any sec–"

Her voice immediately faded when the classroom's door had abruptly opened and the body of students' attention strayed directly toward the door. Just as the wooden slate shut behind the girl the bell rung and she briskly headed down the row of desks. Oliver and Lilly exchanged glances while the rest of class erupted with whispers.

"Oliver," Lilly mumbled lowly, "is that –"

"_Hannah_?" Amber questioned with wide eyes.

Hannah arched an eyebrow at her, placing a hand on her hip as she stared promptly at the gaping girl. "Yeah?"

"Y-your. . . your _hair_," Ashley managed. "It's. . . It's –"

"–_brown_." finished Amber, nearly outraged with the apparent controversy. She wrinkled her nose in clear distaste. "It's so. . ."

"Natural?" Oliver supplied, drawing the trio's eyes to him. "Come on, Ashley, _you_ were over Hannah's house. You saw those pictures of her as a brunette, didn't you?" Truth was, he wasn't entirely sure if there exactly _were_ displayed pictures of Hannah with brown hair other than the ones he found quite a long way from her room. He just hoped Ashley was dumb enough to play along with him or those pictures actually did exist. Either one was fine right about now.

"Oh. . . oh, yeah! I did," Ashley beamed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Oliver sighed inwardly with relief. She took the bait. Meanwhile the class awed at her in return. "_I_ don't think it looks bad."

"Well," Mrs. Lenon began, "since we have _that_ crisis under control I assume we can begin class now, Miss Adesen?"

Amber had promptly shut her mouth after that remark and, after shooting Oliver a dark glare, turned herself around and Hannah took her seat. As Mrs. Lenon began with the day's lecture Hannah snuck the same brunet a faint thankful smile. Oliver couldn't help but return it.

"Okay," Lilly muttered quietly, "so did I just hear _you_ defending Hannah Montana and, more importantly, did she just _smile_ at you?" Oliver decided not to respond, instead figuring he'd let his friend answer her own questions. It took about two seconds for her to add, "I seriously don't understand this world anymore."

-  
-

"Alright, so you want one Ice Blended Coffee and one Extreme Ice Blended Coffee –"

"Could you make that extremely ice blended?" requested the lady.

Oliver glanced at his manager whom was flipping through a magazine nearby before returning his stare on the customer. "Uh, sure –"

"Actually, make that mildly extreme ice blended."

He felt his right eye twitch but he stiffly nodded. "Alright. So that's –"

"No, no, no. Make that the low extreme ice blended –"

"Lady, all I'm doing is adding _ice_ to your coffee!" he snapped. "Now, if you want it water logged, then ask for Extreme, if you don't, then ask for Original and, personally, why don't we save yourself future trouble and make it regular coffee! How about that?!"

"I think I'll just have some water," she smiled pleasantly as she waved a bottle water in front of her.

Oliver slammed his head against the cash register before mumbling into the machine, "that will be a dollar-fifty." When he heard a few quarters hit the counter he muttered, "Have a nice day." He remained in his slouched position until he felt the silhouette of the next customer loom over him and quickly straightened himself up. "Hello, welcome to Coffee Bea–Hannah? What are you doing here?"

"Why else would I be here?" she countered sharply. "To thank you _again_ for earlier."

"Oh, well, don't mention it, I guess?" he blushed. "Amber can be a judgmental bitch to anyone – even her friends."

"I wouldn't exactly call her my friend but I figured that out the day I met her," Hannah replied crisply, playing with the ends of her new brunette locks. "Anyways, when do you get off work?"

"When do I get off work?" repeated Oliver and she nodded in response. "At – wait, why?"

"I figured I'd try to make everything up to you or at least give you a ride home," she offered before smiling weakly at him, "don't be so suspicious Oken. I'm not going to murder you and throw you in a ditch somewhere if that's what you're thinking."

"Well I wasn't until now," he cracked weakly. "But. . . I get off in about five minutes – and I need to be home by seven thirty."

"Seven-thirty? Why? You have a date with your blonde girlfriend?" she mocked, smirking widely when he flushed before shaking his head violently.

"No! Lilly is _not_ my girlfriend. She's – I don't think I could ever picture us going out, like, ever –"

"So you _are_ hanging out with her after though?" Hannah laughed. He chose not to respond and she took that as a clear _yes_. "Alright then. We'll just have get you home by seven-thirty. Now come on before I change my mind."

"Wah – now?" She nodded. "But I –"

"You said you were off in five minutes _five minutes ago_," she informed as she pointed to the nearby clock. "There's really no reason not to go, Oken. Now let's go."

It was more of a demand rather than an invite but nonetheless Oliver sighed before he found himself saying goodbye to his manager and headed reluctantly out of the Coffee Bean and into Hannah's limo after her. His eyes darted across the plush seats and dark confinements of the vehicle; an unsettling feeling whirling around his clenched stomach. He hadn't fully comprehended why he agreed with Hannah but when he felt the automobile move under him there really was no turning back now and he quickly texted his mom that he had secured himself a ride home.

"So where are we going?" inquired Hannah when he pushed his phone back into his pants' right pocket. "We've got about twenty minutes to get you home."

"I – err," Oliver sighed. "You can just drive me home. I, uh, don't you find this sort of, I don't know, _weird_?"

"I'm trying not to," she answered. "But I owe you, so pick a place."

Oliver sunk into his seat, assuming going straight to his house wasn't really an option. Plus, they just missed his house's street about a half a mile back. "Oh, uh, I guess I could go for ice cream?"

"Ice cream?" she repeated with slight uneasiness.

"Yeah, there's an ice cream place a few blocks from here," he nodded, "and to be honest, I really don't think you should worrying about gaining any weight. I know I mentioned it before, but I really didn't mean it. So I'd definitely lighten up about that." She shot him a glare, however, it lessened when she realized she _was_ thinking about the ice cream's forbidden calories.

"Fine, ice cream it is." she forced, turning to her driver to sort out future directions. He nodded and within the next few minutes turned into an ice cream parlor, parking across several empty lots. Hannah ushered Oliver out of the limo and into the deserted parlor, only its employees occupying the store.

"You know, this is kind of nice in an awkward-type way," Hannah mused as she leaned closer to the counter, unintentionally bringing her head closer to his and teased him with a whiff of her hair. He strained himself to turn away, scratching the nape of his neck as a distraction before allowing himself to look at her again.

"What is? The ice cream favors?"

She shot him a quick glare before shaking her head, her brown curls bouncing around from the sudden movement. "You know what I mean, Oken. Us being, you know, okay towards each other and everything."

Oliver felt his head swim at her words, a significant tingling sensation settling in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah, it kinda does." He paused. "In a weird Hannah kind of way."

She flashed him a smile. "It's Miley."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Reviews?! :) I know this hasn't been updated in awhile, I'd blame summer for that and my rekindled obsession with Harry Potter fanfiction. :D


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